


Breathe With Me?

by everylittlebreeze



Category: Riverdale (TV 2017)
Genre: Betty Cooper & Jughead Jones Friendship, Cute, Editor Betty Cooper, F/M, Fluff, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Panic Attacks, Pre-Betty Cooper/Jughead Jones, Pre-Relationship, Sweet Jughead Jones, The Blue and Gold School Newpaper (Riverdale)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-28
Updated: 2019-03-28
Packaged: 2019-12-25 21:10:33
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,591
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18269402
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/everylittlebreeze/pseuds/everylittlebreeze
Summary: Betty Cooper is seriously overwhelmed. When a panic attack takes over in the middle of the school day, the Blue and Gold Office is her reprieve. While there, she finds solace in Jughead Jones, and realizes that she doesn't need to be alone.





	Breathe With Me?

**Author's Note:**

> Hi Readers! This is my first fanfic on AO3, and my first completed fanfic for the Riverdale fandom.
> 
> Warning: Implied Self-Harm, referenced briefly multiple times, as well as in-depth descriptions of a panic attack.
> 
> I love Bughead, and think their pre-relationship togetherness, as well as time spent at the Blue and Gold Office really helped shape them as a couple.
> 
> I also love how Jughead tries to help Betty through her anxiety and panic, especially in Season 1, and that's explored a bit here in this fic.
> 
> This is for everyone who keeps fighting through the panic every day, who uses their school newspaper/publication/yearbook office as a place of comfort, and who wants nothing more than to find someone who will understand the havoc in their head.

Betty Cooper held on for dear life, clinging to the hard surface of her plastic chair, trying not to bring her fingertips to the scarred surface of her palms.

She tried to focus on her teacher, who was discussing an upcoming assignment for AP Biology, but she was lost in the world of her own head.

Betty sat in her fifth class of the day, thinking, “just thirty-seven more minutes.” One more lesson, and she would be on her way to the Blue and Gold Office, ready to work through a story, and, hopefully, work out her nerves.

“In through your nose and out through your mouth,” Betty repeated to herself.

She glanced up at the clock. Thirty-six more minutes.

She quickly ran through her homework schedule, brain moving a million miles an hour. First period, AP English, she had an essay, due tomorrow. Second period, AP U.S. History, she had a project, due in two days, and an article to read about Alexander Hamilton. Third period, AP Spanish, she had an oral presentation, also due tomorrow. Fourth period, AP Calculus, she had an upcoming test. And, although she had taken copious notes, Betty was having trouble understanding the difficult curriculum.

Betty quietly sighed to herself, internally screaming at her mother for making her take so many difficult classes.

It had been a struggle to allow her mother to even let her take on the project of the Blue and Gold. As much as Alice Cooper loved her job in the journalism business, she did not want Betty to follow in her footsteps.

“You could be a doctor, Elizabeth,” she would tell her. “Have a job where you can always support yourself.”

When Betty reminded her Mom how fantastic “Editor in Chief” of the Blue and Gold would look on her college applications, Alice relented, and let her take a sixth period elective, in-between Betty’s load of AP Class homework, piano lessons, tutoring for fifth graders, and volunteering at the food bank, of course.

As much as Betty loved all of her electives, sometimes…okay, maybe most of the time, she felt extremely overwhelmed. The Blue and Gold was her sanity. Spending time with Jughead, combined with the ability to edit anything their readers would see on the page, helped her feel in control. It even sometimes helped her relax, if only for an hour.

She glanced at the clock again, having tuned out her kindhearted teacher for, at least, five minutes, she guessed.

Nope, still thirty-six more minutes left of class. She screamed internally once again, trying to focus on anything but the tightening of her fingers.

“And, with this new chapter we are beginning on mitosis…” her teacher continued.

“In through your nose, out through your mouth. Breathe, Betty,” she reminded herself. “In for four seconds, hold for seven seconds, out for eight seconds.”

Before she could even catch another breath, Betty’s stomach began to clench tightly, and her throat began to feel like it was closing off.

A furtive glance at the clock confirmed that she still had thirty-four minutes left of class. Her bathroom passes had been used up with previous panic attacks, and, as understanding as her AP Biology teacher was, she did not want to make a scene in front of the class.

Betty swallowed, gripping her chair, palms sweaty. She reached up, and tightened her blonde ponytail.

Her stomach flipped, and the nausea set in as she tried to think of anything but the level of panic rising within her.

She reached down and opened her floral backpack, pulling out a sheet of paper and a pen. 

Betty immediately began organizing a calendar, attempting to figure out when to design a new layout for the next issue of the Blue and Gold.

Could she fit the design in next week, after the interview with the soccer team captain on their State Championship win? Or Thursday, after Jughead had finished taking photos for the Creative Writing Club? Or maybe tomorrow, after she wrote the piece on the lunch ladies’ attempts to make the school food healthier?

Halfway through her calendar, Betty couldn’t write anymore. She dropped her pen, putting her head in her hands, legs shaking.

“Now, for your group project,” the teacher began, breaking Betty out of her fog. “Turn your desks, please, and group up. Begin reading Chapter 7, and answer questions one through twenty-four, before starting your cell model…"

“Hey, Betty, are you okay?” Josie McCoy leaned over and asked, as she turned her desk.

Betty turned her desk quickly, grateful for the chance to stand up, if only for a moment, and plastered a smile on her face. “Yeah, I’m great, just tired,” she replied.

Josie looked at her with concern in her eyes. “You’re shaking a little bit…” she said slowly.

Betty looked down at her leg, which was bouncing up and down. “Oh, it’s just this weather! It’s a little cold in here, don’t you think?” Betty asked.

“Yeah, it really is!” Josie replied, accepting her answer and turning to speak to their other group-mates.

Betty breathed out a sigh of relief, before turning to her textbook and pretending to read...

Thirty minutes later, when the class was, at last, allowed to pack up their things, Betty had tears in her eyes. Her throat felt so tight, she couldn’t swallow. Her hands were balled into fists, stomach burned, and almost her entire body was shaking. The bell rang, signaling the end of her academic classes, and Betty stood up from her desk, almost running through the hall to the Blue and Gold Office.

She dropped her backpack onto the couch, and immediately began to pace around the room, head spinning.

Jughead walked through the door a few moments later. “Hey, Betts,” he stated, throwing his backpack to the ground and grabbing his camera bag. “I was thinking, for that blank space we have left on this week’s layout, maybe we could get a photo of…hey, are you okay?”

“Yeah, of course!” Betty replied, perhaps a little too brightly. She rubbed all traces of tears out of her eyes, and sat down, perched on the edge of her chair. “I’m just so tired, you know, all the homework from my classes.”

Jughead eyed her suspiciously. “Okay,” he replied. “I’ll be right back, I’m going to take a quick photo and grab a snack.”

“Sounds great!” Betty responded enthusiastically, noticing her voice crack.

“Do you want anything?” Jughead asked.

“No, I’m great!” Betty chirped, wincing at the repetition of the word “great.”

Jughead picked up his camera and turned around, a concerned expression still covering his face. “Okay, I’ll be back in a couple minutes. He paused for a brief moment. “Unless you need me here?”

“Nope, go snap that photo, I’ll get to work here,” she said quickly.

“Alright,” Jughead replied, loudly tapping the side of the doorframe on his way out.

As soon as he left the room, Betty let out a sigh of relief. She didn’t know what was wrong with her. Normally, being around Jughead helped her relax, but today…

She tried to finish her planned work for the day, writing a piece on their new Art teacher, but that didn’t work.

She tried to sit at the computer and design the next layout early, but that didn’t work.

She tried to pace around the couch, writing down sample interview questions on a stray notepad, but that didn’t work either.

Eventually, she found herself laying on the couch, staring at the ceiling, and that’s where she remained when Jughead re-entered the room.

“Betts, I brought you an apple turnover, I know they’re your favorite.”

He stopped short, just in front of the doorway, pausing for a moment, before moving towards her. “You must be really tired.”

Jughead sat down in front of the couch, resting his head on the front of the armrest. “Maybe we should take the day off today?”

He reached up to hand her the apple turnover, and Betty’s stomach turned uncomfortably, the nausea flooding back into her body.

She took the turnover, a forced smile on her face, and set it in front of her. He opened his chocolate chip cookie, the sweet smell filling the room around them as he took a huge bite.

“You’re not going to eat?" Jughead asked, as she tried to hold her breath.

“No, I’m alright,” Betty replied.

“Betts, when was the last time you ate?” Jughead questioned softly.

Betty thought back. She definitely didn’t eat at lunch, and she couldn’t remember eating much this morning.

“Last night?” Betty whispered sheepishly.

Halfway to his mouth, Jughead lowered his cookie, still half covered in its wrapper, to the floor. He turned to face her. “Betts, what’s wrong? Why aren’t you eating?”

“I’m just not hungry,” she answered, placing her hand on her stomach. “My stomach hurts.”

“Are you sick?” Jughead questioned, sitting up abruptly. “Maybe you got the stomach flu that’s going around…”

Betty’s throat clenched at the thought of throwing up at school, embarrassing herself in front of her classmates, missing class, getting behind…

She turned to face the back of the couch, groaning at the thought. She took a deep breath.

“I’m not sick, Jug,” she whispered quietly. “Sometimes I just…”

“Just what?” Jughead replied, his voice patient.

Suddenly, the words started spilling out of Betty mouth, before she could stop them…

“Sometimes, I just feel sick. And, I don’t know why, but I’m never actually sick; it’s all in my head. I get nauseous, and I don’t really eat when that happens, I start shaking, and I get sweaty, and my stomach clenches, and I can’t swallow, and I clench my palms until they bleed.”

Tears started pricking in her eyes again as she kept her gaze firmly planted on the yellowing back of the couch.

“I know, it’s stupid, and I don’t know why it happens, but I’m just so scared, and I can’t handle it all, it’s too much, and I’m so tired, but I can’t sleep…”

Her breathing picked up, and she started to hyperventilate. “My grades are falling, and my mom is on my back, and all these classes are just so intense, and it’s crushing me, and I can’t…I can’t…” Betty started hiccuping, trying to catch her breath, tears falling down her face.

She started breathing faster and faster, sitting up abruptly and rocking back and forth.

Jughead reached out to her, starting to pull his arms around her neck for a hug.

A wild scream came out of her, and she batted his arms away. “Don’t touch me!”

His eyes widened, slightly fearful and extremely apologetic.

“I’m sorry, it’s just…I already feel like I’m trapped and I can’t breathe, and if you do that, I’ll feel even more trapped,” she began to explain.  
After a moment, she looked him directly in the eyes.

“I know I sound crazy,” she sniffled.

His sympathetic expression showed that Jughead believed exactly the opposite.

“You’re not crazy, Betts,” he answered. “What can I do?”

“Just…don’t leave…” she said quietly. “I don’t want to be alone.”

He leaned his head onto the arm of the couch from his spot on the floor, and gazed up at her, pulling his beanie off carefully, and setting it next to him.

He slowly began breathing in and out. “Breathe with me?” Jughead asked quietly.

She nodded slowly.

“In for four seconds,” Jughead whispered. “Hold for seven, out for eight.”

After doing deep breathing for a minute or so, Betty began to feel her head clear, the clouds of panic slowly shifting.

“How’d you learn about four, seven, eight breathing?” Betty asked quietly.

The tips of Jughead’s ears turned red as he stumbled a bit through his words. “You clench your hands a lot, looking like you’re in pain, and you hyperventilate…”

Betty stared at him, wide-eyed.

“I started to get worried, so I did some research, and realized those might be symptoms of a panic attack. I didn’t know about the ‘No Touching’ thing. I’ll remember that for next time. I know it might be creepy, Betty, and I’m so sorry, I was just concerned, and wanted to know what I could do.”

She continued to stare at him, speechless. “You noticed?” Betty asked, incredulous.

“Yeah, I wanted to help, but didn’t want you to feel like you had to tell me the whole story,” he responded.

“It’s not creepy,” Betty said, looking him straight in the eye. “It’s sweet, Juggie.” A small, genuine smile slipped onto her face for a fleeting moment.

He carefully reached up, moving to place a tentative hand on her back. “Is this okay?” Jughead asked. “I can wait a few more minutes if you’re still feeling claustrophobic.”

She nodded, slowly, still a bit shaky. “It’s okay,” Betty whispered softly.

He placed his hand on her back, rubbing small circles, hoping to ease some of the tension that was constantly built up in her body. His hand slowly moved from her back, down her arm, to her hand, fingertips carefully brushing over the scars on her palm, before moving up to her back once again.

Before long, Betty’s eyes started slipping closed. The crying, and the hyperventilating, had worn her out. Jughead’s hand still slipped over her back, as comforting and soothing as ever.

After a while longer, she felt his hand start to pull away, and a soft fabric covered her arms. She looked up briefly, opening one eye, to see Jughead tucking his sheepskin jacket around her, his S-t-shirt that was so distinctly "Jughead" on full display.

She began to sit up. “Are you leaving?” Betty asked, sadness in her voice. “You can’t leave me your jacket, you’ll freeze.”

“I’m not leaving,” he responded, a small smirk sweeping over his features. “You just looked cold.”

He took his seat, back at the arm of the couch.

“Juggie?” Betty asked.

“Yeah, Betts?” Jughead murmured.

“That cannot be comfortable,” she answered, standing up.

“You don’t need to do that, I’m fine,” he said quickly.

She peered down at him, his wonderfully warm jacket around her shoulders giving her strength.

“Lay down,” she said softly. “And then I’ll lay down next to you, and I won’t be trapped against the back of the couch.”

“Are you sure?” Jughead asked, standing up and setting his previously removed beanie on a nearby table.

She pulled her hair out of its tight ponytail. “I’m sure,” Betty replied.

He laid down against the back of the couch, using up the least amount of room possible.

She chuckled softly, and laid down, snuggling into Jughead just a little bit.

As she slowly became more comfortable, Betty began cuddling further into Jughead, putting her head against his chest, and looping her arm around his back.

Jughead slowly moved his own arms, putting one around her, anchoring her to him, and using his other to maneuver his free hand to her head. He carded his fingers slowly through Betty’s blonde locks, hoping to further relax her.

Jughead wasn’t sure how long they had been laying there when Betty finally dozed off, her breathing even. As he looked down at the sleeping girl against his chest, he smiled softly, pressing a kiss to the crown of her head, certain this was the most comfortable he’d been in a very long time.

And, as for Betty, whenever panic attacks happened, more often than not these days, she knew exactly who would be there to help her breathe.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading!
> 
> ~everylittlebreeze


End file.
